


Address

by moyzi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9623195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moyzi/pseuds/moyzi
Summary: Shiro dreams of showing Allura Earth.Written awhile back for Shallura Week 2016!





	

Shiro wishes Allura could see a lot of things.

Like the orange-tinted, morning sunrise through his dark room’s blinds. Here in space, there is nothing like that. They both shut their eyes to a night-sky, and when they wake, it seems no different. In fact, it’s rather easy to lose track of time out here.

He wishes she could see the towering buildings in the big cities, the busy streets and sunsets over the city horizon. Taste the food stands up and down the backstreets. Relax at the small coffee shops nuzzled between boutiques. Feel the cold drops of rain on bare skin.

But, there’s still a barrier between the two. Shiro, he’s never seen Altea. He can’t compare Earth’s beauty to it. Hell, there’s a good chance Altea was _prettier_ than Earth, especially considering the way Allura describes it. She always does it the same way—her eyes looking out ahead, glinted with passion. She can’t contain her smile as she rambles about endless fields of flowers. Once or twice, she cries.

They stay up nearly all night talking. And, when they finally decide to head to bed—an hour before they’re supposed to wake—he tells her something.

To her, they’re just a random arrangement of numbers and letters, foreign words she’s never heard before. To her, they mean nothing, until he says, “That’s where my apartment is. On Earth.”

She’s not even sure why he’s said that to her suddenly, but she asks him to repeat it, again and again, until it’s burned into her mind. She has no connection to those numbers, letters, places. But Shiro _does._

They go to bed together that night. Allura leads him, one hand on his wrist, pulling him along. Their walk down the long hall is filled with yawning, with heavy eyelids on the verge of closing: For a moment, it seems like the two will collapse and fall asleep on the castle floor.

When they get to her room, it’s no surprise they collapse on her bed, Allura still in her dress, Shiro still in his daytime clothes. They lie atop the sheets, and Shiro curls on his side, draping an arm around her middle. She moves toward his embrace, closing her eyes and drifting to sleep with the rise and fall of his breathing.

She dreams of Shiro’s home, pretends they are laying on his bed.

\--

Allura wishes Shiro wouldn’t have gone that day.

She remembers it clearly: The sirens sounding, the flashes of red, and Shiro right before her eyes, his facial expression laced with uncertainty. There’s a passion in his eyes, though, and she knows she cannot stop him.

He steps to her, amidst all of the chaos, and pulls her to his chest. Her tears slip down his paladin suit. He whispers, “It’ll be okay,” and for once, she believes it. He plants a kiss atop her hair. When they break their embrace, she notices the tip of his nose has reddened, and his eyes are glossy.

“It’ll be okay,” she repeats, dragging her thumb softly along his jaw. He tilts toward her touch. There are more words looming on the tip of her tongue, but there’s no time. She gives him a soft nod, and he returns it, mouthing her name before turning and running off.

Shiro doesn’t return from that mission.

She remembers hearing it for the first time. Keith, coming through over the intercom, his voice unsteady as he tries explain the situation. It takes him close to a full minute to explain it all, but she could tell from the shakiness in the beginning where it would end.

She remembers feeling the sting run throughout her body. She remembers clasping her hand over her mouth, standing still, quivering in place. She remembers the noises she made, short squeals, muffled into her hand. She remembers feeling hot tears stream down her face, and she remembers imagining they were drops of rain, and she was on Earth, and Shiro was still alive.

\--

Now, Allura wishes Shiro could’ve returned to Earth with her.

She has no idea what to do when her shoe first touches the planet. Beneath her is sand, in endless stretches. It’s much too warm out for her armor, but she doesn’t mind.

After settling in for a few days, she heads off alone—after the paladins have explained as much as they can, and scribbled down a list of instructions. They don’t ask where she is going, because they already know. Coran is worried, but she pulls him close and assures him she’ll be back shortly. “It’s something I have to do,” she says, and Coran seems to understand.

Behind her eyes she sees that specific arrangement of numbers, of letters, and next thing she knows she’s on a bus, heading to the other side of the country.

She feels uncomfortable in these Earthling clothes: A borrowed t-shirt from Lance, which hangs loosely over her figure, and a pair of pants from Keith, tied off at the waist with a thin rope. She falls asleep against the rattling window, only to wake up with an imprint on her head and a massive headache. When she’s awake, she sits in her seat quietly, respectfully, and twiddles her thumbs as her mind explodes with _What if’s?_

_What if I didn’t remember it correctly? What if it’s no longer there?_

Something tells her Shiro would’ve chuckled at her unease, patted her back, and told her it’s all okay. The image helps her continue.

And, suddenly, she’s stepping off of the bus, at an old, run-down bus stop. It’s rusting and covered in ripped fliers, and it’s nothing like she would’ve seen on Altea, but it’s beautiful in its own way, she thinks.

Next thing she knows, she’s on another bus, shuttled to the other side of the city. Her stomach rumbles—she still hasn’t eaten, as she’s apprehensive about this Earth food—and she nearly misses her stop as she dreams of the dishes on Altea.

She thanks the bus driver, and hops off, squeezing through the narrow gaps of pedestrians as she heads down the sidewalk. It takes her awhile to find it, backtracking again and again, but eventually she’s there, two feet on the ground, a deep breath in, looking at the blue door of Shiro’s apartment.

She jiggles the doorknob, and then she’s unsure what to do next, because she doesn’t have a key and she really doesn’t need to draw attention right now. She dials back to the paladins.

At first, they take it as her emergency call, and she can hear heavy breathing around the phone and Coran’s voice in the background, urging her to release her location. She assures that she is fine, to which she receives a collective sigh of relief, and then asks how she’s supposed to get into a locked door—the technology on Earth is nothing like that of Altea.

They walk her through it—Pidge, mostly—and eventually, she pops the door open with a few bobby pins. She thanks them, hangs up, and steps inside.

It’s surreal. She closes the door behind her, turning back to face the room. Shiro’s scent lingers in the air. It’s fairly clean there, too, and that alone draws the smile upon her lips. She slips off her shoes—as if dirtying the carpet really mattered at this point. She then checks every room in the place—the kitchen, the bathroom, the closet—searching through drawers and cabinets, and never in her life did she imagine she’d feel excited over dinner plates and toiletries. But, they’re _Shiro’s._

Closing her eyes, she tries to imagine him running through his daily routine. The carpet is soft against her bare feet, and she uses her hands to feel out walls and furniture to guide her. She sees Shiro behind her eyes, making breakfast, brushing his teeth, slipping a shirt over his head, ruffling his hair afterwards.

The front of her legs hit an obstruction next, and she opens her eyes to see the bed before her. Sliding her hands across the sheets, she follows them, crawling atop the bed. She nuzzles her face against the comforter, drawing in Shiro’s smell, at its strongest here. She grabs at his pillows and pulls them all around her, shifting into place. For a long while, she just lays there, watching the way the setting sun comes in through the blinds, soft yellows and reds. The scent of Shiro and the calming light and the feeling of the mattress coax her into sleep.

She dreams of days with Shiro, pretends he is there with her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
